


Sublime

by Katsitting (Nekositting)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Bodily Fluids, Come Swallowing, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face Slapping, I'm messing heavily with consent, M/M, Mind Rape, Unrealistic Flavor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekositting/pseuds/Katsitting
Summary: “What do you want?” Harry snarled, ignoring his fear and clutching onto his anger like a shield. It warmed his skin and silenced the worries in the back of his head. A temporary fix, but one that Harry welcomed in that precise second.Heavy silenced settled over them, before the creature spoke again, its voice soft.“You.”





	Sublime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peixe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peixe/gifts).



> This is an AU inspired by a drabble. This has not been betad so expect typos and other issues.
> 
> Leave comments or kudos. This is my take on the Fae. I hope you like.
> 
> This is gifted towards one of my favorite fishies, Peixe. Enjoy ;)

The first thing Harry noticed was how hard his bed was. There was no give, the surface beneath him making both of his shoulders protest with discomfort and his spine groan with a deep-seated ache.

Harry groaned, making to rise from where he had lain. His bed was usually rather comfortable after hours of picking out weeds for the Dursleys; the sun burning into the nape of his neck and his fingers clammy with both dirt and sweat as he worked. Sure, it wasn’t the best mattress in the world. But still, it was certainly better than sleeping on their tiled floor.

And at this precise moment, his bed did not feel even remotely like a bed.

Harry blinked his bleary eyes open, reaching out to grab for the glasses he typically placed right at his bed side. But there was no night table at his side, nor were his glasses anywhere within reach.

Harry froze, touching an uneven surface that was both moist and scratchy,  identical to the weeds he had picked out just the day before.

_I don’t remember my bedside table being this uneven…_

He blinked what little sleepiness he had in his eyes, the sweet haze of drowsiness giving way to shock and unease in seconds, and felt his heart nearly come up his throat in surprise.

Harry eyes widened, nausea twisting in his gut when he could not recognize  where he was.

_Green_.

It was an such an explosion of greens that it took Harry several moments to gather his bearings. It felt like he’d been swallowed in by the color, as if the earth had finally fought off the creeping presence of humanity. The color looked almost like his eyes, the world a deep emerald despite the thicket of darkness right at the outermost edges of his vision.

Harry tried to make sense of it as best as he could without his glasses, but the surrounding kaleidoscope of color only made him dizzy. If he squinted hard enough, he could even make out the outlines of trees in the darkened emerald, its trunks encased with moss and vines that tangled around its surface. Though there was little comfort to be derived from those small glimpses.

Harry took a shuddering breath, but there was no relief in the gesture. His heart felt just as ready to explode as it had the moment he first opened his eyes.

But who could really blame him when realization seized him.

There was really only one place he could be. The only place that could ever be _this_ green. The only place where the air cut through bone with its icy touch and danced along the vertebrae of his spine despite the nightshirt pressed against his skin.

_I’m in the forest._

Harry felt panic sour within his belly, his nerves making his muscles tense to the point of pain. His fingers were clenched into fists, his blunt nails cutting into his calloused hands.

_How did I get here?_ Harry thought, his shoulders trembling when he couldn’t come up with a plausible answer.

The last thing Harry remembered that night was getting dressed before shuffling to bed. And Harry was certain he wasn’t the sort to sleepwalk. He had never done it before. Even if he had developed such a habit, Harry doubted that he would sleep walk to the _forest_ of all places.

He absolutely hated the place. A toxic emotion that stirred his insides more violently than even the way the Dursleys treated him.

Harry, in all the time since moving in with the Dursleys, had not once gone into the forest. It was an unspoken rule he had had, a faint unease that coaxed him to simply stay away. And Harry, never one to reject his instincts when they were very clear on something, did just that. It wasn’t often that his mind screamed at him that intensely to stay away from a place, so it made perfect sense that he wouldn’t go in.

Hell, it was reason enough for him not to even look at the underbrush right at the back of the house. It was reason enough  to hate it, to turn his attention away as soon as the strange whispers started again in the back of his head.

It was a relief that the Dursleys never took him out on their little hiking trips to the woods. It would have been painful to come up with a sufficient enough excuse to deter them. Not that he was above making trouble just to be disciplined and denied that chance. But still, it was definitely a perk in those instances that the Dursleys wanted nothing to do with him.

And although the thought sounded silly, he couldn’t help himself. The forest was just unnerving. It made him feel like he wasn’t really alone, like there was something watching him through the little window he had facing out into the sea of green in his shitty bedroom.

He just couldn’t control his visceral reaction to the place. Something just felt _off_ about the trees and the way the light danced beneath the green. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the cause of his unease was, of what it was about the verdant world that chipped away at his composure.

_But do I want to know?_ Harry had often wondered at that. Laying on his bed as thought after thought assailed his mind just before giving in to his exhaustion.

He didn’t, he knew that for a fact. He didn’t need a reason, not when his instincts have _never_ been wrong.

So the fact that he had woken up in the very place Harry had, for years, avoided made something twist in his stomach. Like someone had taken a blender and turned the bloody thing on full power to screw around with his insides.

_Snap._

Harry was taken immediately from his thoughts, the sound forcing him to his feet so fast that he almost fell right back down onto the unforgiving earth. His feet nearly slipped, and he cursed beneath his breath as he tried to find his balance.

It was several seconds before he’d managed to right himself, but once he did, he swiveled his head around to try to discern just what could have made the sound. His heart was beating a mile a minute, his lungs tight with the shallow breaths he kept forcing through them.

And then, there was absolute silence.

The trees did not rustle. There were no cries of animals in the dark. The world around Harry was still, and that reality made goosebumps ripple over the exposed skin of his arms.

Harry’s stomach clenched unpleasantly with his nerves.

Several moments passed, and Harry swallowed audibly, his fingers tense and restless. The silence had thoroughly spooked him, especially when Harry could have sworn he had heard that sound. He couldn’t have made that up.

“I know you’re there,” Harry called out, his hands screwing his hands into fists to stop his fingers from shaking.

He couldn’t afford fear. Whatever it was that was out there could be dangerous for all he knew. Because surely, whatever or whomever was out there was what had taken him out of his bedroom in the first place.

Harry waited for a response, listening avidly for the press of feet against grass, for the crunch of dried leaves to break the mind-numbing silence, but there was absolutely _nothing_.

Harry felt like he was going mad.

He did not have his glasses. He was stranded somewhere in the middle of the forest with no bloody idea how deep he was. And if things weren’t terrible already, there was someone out there with him without any means to protect himself.

Harry could not make out anything on the forest floor, the green so intense it was nearly blinding when he tried to find a stick amongst the moist earth below his feet. It was a flurry of color, and Harry cursed internally at just how blind he was.

It took everything within him to not just start running. But he held himself rooted in place, feeling deep within the marrow of his bones that breaking out into a sprint would only make it worse. Harry did not know how he knew, it was a hunch. An idea that slipped between the crevices of his psyche to warn him away from becoming a frightened deer.

It took Harry several moments to think of something else to do before he finally settled on his second best option.

Harry parted his mouth, and began to speak.

“Just let me go back home and we can both pretend this never happened at all,” Harry said, the lie sitting uncomfortably in his gut. There was no bloody way he could pretend this had never happened. He’d been bloody snatched out of his _bed_ in the middle of the night.

These things just did not happen. And he definitely was not going to leave things be. Whatever it was could snatch anyone it desired from their own beds.

Harry would not allow this creature to take any more people if that was what was going on. There were books on what people did to others when they kidnapped them, of how they were forced to commit atrocities, and were never seen again.

Harry wondered if that was going to be him. But he had not seen the monster’s face and he most certainly had not spoken to any strangers. He was already wary of others considering how the Dursleys talked about him within earshot of others.

It was impossible, but there was a possibility this was someone graduating with him. Or maybe an authority figure in his school. Harry wasn’t sure if the likelihood of this creature being human made him feel better or worse.

_Monsters wearing sheep’s wool..._

“ _Lie_.” Harry gasped, twisting around when he felt warm air waft against his left ear, the whisper dancing along his spine.

Harry could see a faint outline of a person, the shadows clinging to him so opaque that he could not quite discern just where the dark green of the trees began and the person’s shadow started.

His stomach roiled when the shadow began to melt away right before his eyes, the blurry figure vanishing like smoke.

_What the bloody hell was going on?_

“You have the sight,” the voice said, and Harry felt his muscles tense to the point of pain. His fear so palpable that Harry felt like he was choking on it. “You can sense our presence, can taste the magic at the back of your throat...”

Harry made to move, but he was stopped by a cold arm snaking around his waist. The arm dragged him back against a hard chest, the movement forcing all the air in Harry’s lungs out from his parted lips and rooting him completely in place.

Harry tensed, preparing to fight the offending touch away.

But just as the thought of fighting crossed his mind, the arm tightened and Harry felt all his fight leave him. His muscles refused to move, his arms and legs alarmingly lax despite the panic coursing through his veins.

_I can’t move…_

His instincts were screaming for him to run, his muscles contracting desperately with his panic, but Harry could not move a single finger. It was as if there was a veil over his muscles, like a sharp blade had severed the connection between his mind and his body.

It made something noxious settle in Harry’s throat.

“Can’t have you bolting like doe, now can we?” The voice said, sounding amused at Harry’s expense.

_Why can’t I move…_ Harry thought desperately, eyes wide and lips parted with absolute shock. This just couldn’t be possible. People didn’t just steal one’s will to move like that. It was something straight from a fantasy novel.

It was as if Harry were a puppet being pulled along by invisible strings. And that simply could not just happen. It could not be _real._

Harry felt anger spark in his belly at the thought. His helplessness and the creature’s voice like a lit match tossed onto dried bramble.

Harry had never felt this vulnerable in his life. Not since first moving in with the Dursleys and being tossed into a life of literal servitude. Harry was drowning in his fear and anger, the toxic emotions swirling so violently that Harry thought he might throw up.

“What do you want?” Harry snarled, ignoring his fear and clutching onto his anger like a shield. It warmed his skin and silenced the worries in the back of his head. A temporary fix, but one that Harry welcomed in that precise second.

Heavy silenced settled over them, before the creature spoke again, its voice soft.

“ _You_.”

Harry felt his spine crawl when the stranger breathed the word into his ear.

“What worth could I possibly be to you?” Harry replied, tone steady even when the creature pressed him more firmly against its chest, the touch making a disgusted shiver crawl up Harry’s spine.

“You have the sight. Very precious few are able to see us, to _feel_ us,” the creature said again, and Harry swallowed when he felt a pair of lips graze his ear, teeth catching on the skin. Harry tried not to shudder, but failed miserably at hiding it when the creature’s chest began to rumble with laughter.

_What is it even talking about?_ Harry thought, gasping when the creature’s arms tightened to the point of pain. Harry’s ribs protested, but he was powerless to do a single thing. His breathing became more labored the tighter the thing’s grip became, the green before his eyes blackening right at the corners of his eyes.

_Shite._

“T-the sight?” Harry forced through gritted teeth, the pain at his ribs tearing a pained groan from his mouth.

The creature was a silent for a moment before relaxing its arm.

Harry’s relief was instant. He did not hesitate to suck in a greedy breath, for the moment forgetting that the creature had even denied him air at all.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why you were immediately put on edge when you arrived here? Why you could make just the _correct_ decisions to get you by? A strange instinctive push for you to choose one path over other, more viable paths?” The creature asked, a tongue poking out to taste Harry’s skin.

Harry felt his stomach roil with both revulsion and anticipation. A strange energy had settled between them, and Harry wondered then just what that meant.

Because none of this was making bloody sense.

“So? What’s your point? Everyone makes these sorts of decisions,” Harry shot back, pushing his head away from the creature’s mouth when its lips began to lower from the top of Harry’s neck, to tease just where the collar of his shirt began. A moist, hot tongue met Harry’s flesh and he nearly gasped from the strange sensation.

The tongue was rough, almost like that of a cat’s.

And then the tongue left, Harry’s shoulders relaxing with relief.

“But your instincts are particularly sensitive, no? The results are distinct, unusually accurate for a simple human. Like how you decided that you would never set foot in this forest, your hesitation clear in your eyes when you first saw it. Like how you decided that you would not sink your teeth into the apple you found by the flowerbed, despite how alluring it looked and how hungry you were...”

The voice became huskier, the baritone almost like water as it spoke against Harry’s skin.

It was melodious, oddly entrancing despite the danger Harry was clearly in. Despite how obvious it was that the creature had been stalking him for some time now…

“Who are you?” Harry winced when the creature’s teeth suddenly closed around his neck, the pressure gentle despite the obvious razor-sharp points scratching along the delicate skin.

The creature nibbled on his throat, liquid fire shooting up Harry’s spine each time its tongue laved over the smarted skin to chase away the pain. It was a strange sensation, a spark of electricity shooting up Harry’s spine each time the monster happened to dig its teeth more roughly on the spot right between his shoulders and neck.

_Why does it feel so nice?_

Harry yelped when he was suddenly twisted around, the arm at his waist manipulating his body easily before pressing his chest against a pale, naked body. A body that singed Harry even through the thin layer of his night shirt.

Harry’s eyes widened, his mouth parting in surprise when a hand slipped into his hair to scratch into his scalp and force his face up to look at the face of the monster that had stolen him from his bed.

_Oh god..._ Harry did not know what to think.

Harry had expected a monster, a creature of the night, or a beast that stole away innocents in the dead of night. But instead of that monster Harry had imagined in spite of its rather human-like hands, he found a creature too beautiful to be real.

The creature’s cheeks were high and aristocratic, seeming as if they’d been carved out of marble or precious stone rather than made of skin. Its lips were twisted into a predatory grin, making its features light up and Harry’s stomach roil with unease. It’s hair was blacker than the night sky above their heads, than the earth that grew steadily darker and greener the longer Harry looked.

_It’s unreal…_

The creature looked like a fallen angel, like a man from within the pages of those magazines Petunia hid away in the living room book shelf, if not even more handsome.

Harry took several seconds to find the wherewithal to look the man in the eyes. The allure too strong for even Harry to resist; it pulled and crooned, and Harry let himself look.

He regretted the action instantly. His chest tightened and his breath caught, the vision before his eyes unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

The creature’s eyes were pools of black, the rich onyx cutting through the murkiness in Harry’s vision like a bright light. Harry felt a shuddering breath leave his lips, unable to look away, enthralled and drunk off the shine swirling in the man’s eyes.

It silenced all the worries in Harry’s mind. The instincts that had screamed for him to move, the voice that had urged him to run away, falling silent. All of it died in that second, washed away by the power swirling in the creature’s eyes.

Harry knew that it was wrong. That this sensation was not natural. That this heat settling deep into his bones did not belong to him. But Harry could not help himself, there was a promise of euphoria in that gaze.

Harry leaned helplessly into the sensation, drawn in by the heat that burned against Harry’s skin.

Harry didn’t know when the magic holding him in place had broken, but that hardly mattered to him in that moment. One of his hands reached out to press against the man’s cheekbone, hungry to feel more of the angel’s warmth against his skin, while pressing the other onto the hot flesh where the creature’s hip began.

The touch shot adrenaline up his spine, and Harry moaned, completely intoxicated. Unable to look away from the angel’s eyes as he laid curious touches on his flesh.

“I will tell you my name, but only if you provide me with yours,” the creature purred, and Harry shuddered in delight when the arm wrapped around his waist relaxed, and slipped right beneath Harry’s shirt.

When its fingers made contact with his spine, the palm splaying to knead at the soft flesh. Harry arched his back and pressed closer to the creature’s chest in response to the delicious jolt that danced between each vertebrae at the simple touch.

_This feels..._

Harry’s mouth parted, his tongue poking out to trace over his bottom lip as he sank further into the angel’s eyes, the abyss drowning him whole.

_Good..._

The thought scalded him, ate away at his self-control and Harry could not help but press closer into the angel’s skin, wanting more than anything for the creature to remove his shirt, to rip it straight from his body and touch him more. The angel’s lips came just centimeters from his own, and Harry wanted nothing more than to taste them.

And Harry wondered then, just how delicious those lips might taste. He parted his mouth and nearly lost it when he breathed in the angel’s warm breath, his mouth drinking it in like the sweetest ambrosia.

Harry was so close that he could taste him, and Harry whined when the fallen angel leaned away, mischief apparent in his gaze.

The denial almost pushed Harry over the edge.

“Give me your _name_ ,” the angel purred and Harry gave in, submitting to the pleasure dancing along his skin each time the creature massaged his spine and the creature breathed against his lips.

“Harry James Potter—” Harry whispered, feeling something settle along his skin. Like a carpet of moist air falling on bare skin. It made Harry shudder and lean further into the creature with beautiful, black eyes. The strange sensation like nothing Harry had ever experienced before, but one that he appreciated nevertheless.

“Good boy _, Harry_ ,” the angel crooned before it finally bridged the gap between their lips.

The touch seared through Harry’s psyche, his mouth parting into a gasp when the angel’s tongue pressed against the seam of his mouth, chasing after Harry’s errant tongue.

The angel’s mouth was gentle and questing, and Harry tightened his grip on the man’s skin, the hand touching the angel’s cheek carding past his skin to dig into soft, black hair and press their faces closer.

Harry felt like he was drowning, euphoria and delight making his fingers tingle as the angel’s tongue caressed his own, his mouth sucking Harry’s tongue into his mouth, only to sink his teeth softly against it. The sharp pain was as delicious as the pleasure coiling in his stomach, the writhing like live snakes battling for dominance.

_Yes, please more..._ Harry thought desperately, sinking into ecstasy.

Harry moaned, eyes snapping closed then when the angel’s touches became more insistent, the hand dancing along his spine slipping away to fist into Harry’s shirt and tear it right from his back. Harry was thrilled by the violence, the burn of his clothes falling apart heightening his pleasure rather than tearing him away from it; the exquisite taste of the angel’s mouth better than even the treacle tarts he would sneak into his bedroom.

And Harry wanted _more_. He wanted to drown in the taste, to submit to the pain and the pleasure that only this angel could give him.

The creature’s mouth tasted of berries. His saliva was tart like fresh strawberries, the decadence of the flavor woven into the rich flavor of mango, intoxicating. It was sweet and tooth rotting, and Harry could not get enough. It was easily the best thing Harry had ever tasted in his entire life, and he could not stop himself from moaning into the angel’s mouth from the taste, chasing after the angel’s mouth for more.

It was easy to let the current take him, to sink into those waters when the angel was teasing and coaxing soft sounds from his throat with his experienced mouth.

_Please let this never end..._ Harry arched his back, the pressure of the angel’s touch along his back and the angel’s heat on his chest eliciting soft sounds from his lips.

_I’m losing my mind..._

Harry whined when the angel suddenly sank its teeth into Harry’s tongue, the pain twisting with the pleasure so readily that Harry could not discern where pleasure began and where pain ended. He was lost to the creature’s hands, entirely at his mercy.

It should have scared him, but there was something building in his belly. A something that Harry wanted more than ever.

The taste of metal in his mouth should have snapped him from his senses, should have let him see that this was _wrong_ and that this pleasure was _wrong_ , but the copper flavor mingling with the sweetness of the angel’s mouth did not steer him away. The flavor brought him further in, the whisper of euphoria at the back of his mind pulling him completely under.

Harry couldn’t remember why he should have been  afraid in the first place, why he had wanted to fight this at all.

Nothing mattered but his skin against his own. Not when the angel’s muscles contracted beneath Harry’s hand, the soft skin like silk as he clutched and tried to press them so tightly together that there would be no way to separate them.

_I’m think I’m going to—_

The angel tore his lips away, and Harry whined, eyes fluttering open to shoot the angel a desperate look.

“Please, more,” Harry begged, mind set ablaze with his desire. But the angel only laughed with lips twisting into a wide grin.

“I promised you a name, and I will give it to you,” the angel said, his hand slipping low on Harry’s back to grip his boxers between his fingers. “I am a man of my word, I must follow tradition first.”

Harry cared little for formalities at that point. He wanted that mouth back on his own like a starving man wanted a meal.

“My name is _Lord Voldemort_ , your Lord and Master.”

Harry gasped when Voldemort tore his boxers off his shaking legs, the night’s cold air kissing along newly revealed skin. The delicious press of the man’s fingers against his arse were enough to stave off the nauseating desire coiling in the pit of Harry’s stomach, but still, Harry rutted against Voldemort, trying to coax the man to touch between his thighs.

“You want more, little doe?” Voldemort purred, and Harry shook his head desperately, unable to form the words to beg. His cheeks burned a bright red, but Harry could not find it in himself to feel embarrassed.

“Get on your knees and I will spoil you. You will want for nothing once you let me inside…” Voldemort whispered, an edge to his voice that Harry ignored entirely, his desire twisting his insides into pretzels. The man had promised him more, and Harry did not hesitate before dropping to his knees, his hands clasping tightly onto the moist grass beneath him.

Harry caught sight of the man’s cock, the skin smooth and pale, its head rosy with desire, and Harry felt his mouth water with desire to take it between his lips. With a gasp, Harry tried to ignore the churning in his gut, the niggling in the back of his mind like a siren urging him to gather his senses, to wake up from the haze that had fallen over his eyes.

But then Voldemort spoke, and Harry gave in to the rich sound, casting away the worried voice that tried to warn him.

“Open your mouth, little doe. Let me see your pink tongue,” Voldemort ordered, his hand planting on Harry’s head to card through his dark, wild hair. His touch was enough to completely silence all thought of resistance in Harry’s mind. The last vestiges of resistance erased entirely.

_More_ , Harry thought as his mind sank further and further into the abyss, before parting his lips as his Master had ordered.

With eyes snapping upwards to catch Voldemort’s smoldering look, Harry noted the way Voldemort’s mouth turned into a pleased grin, how the man’s eyes slanted with desire when Harry then leaned forward to kiss his Master’s cock, sensing that _this_ was what Voldemort wanted him to do.

When Voldemort groaned, Harry felt a rush of joy and delight swell within his chest, the pleased sound making his cock stiffen further with desire.

Harry never wanted to please someone as much as Voldemort. Nothing else mattered.

There was a moment of silence, where neither said a word, and almost as if possessed, Harry took Voldemort’s entire length into his mouth, his jaw aching from the strain. His mouth stretched uncomfortably wide, but he didn’t care that it hurt. His discomfort did not matter, not when his Master was threading his fingers through his hair and was grinning widely. Not when he wanted his Master to take his pleasure.

No.

Instead, Harry focused on the way Voldemort’s lips parted to release a short breath. His own cock hard and stiff as he took his Master entirely.

Harry gagged when he kept pushing the man’s cock in, the back of his throat protesting at the intrusion. But Harry pushed forward nevertheless, the feeling of the man’s shaft between his lips, the feeling of his cock in his throat, intoxicating.

_More._

Voldemort’s cock slipped over the back of his tongue, and Harry groaned, excited by how it rubbed against him. The man tasted just as sweet as his mouth had, if not better. And Harry could not stop himself from swallowing around his prick, feeling but totally ignoring how his saliva trickled down his chin.

_Please, more._

Harry wondered idly what he looked like then, what his face looked like stuffed with his Master’s cock stuffed as far into his throat as was allowed. Harry felt himself hardening just at the thought of seeing himself then. Of how he might look like with his Master taking his fill.

Spurred on by the salacious thought of seeing himself in such a way, Harry sucked his Master’s prick deeper, forcing himself to take all of him until he could no longer breathe.

Harry did not need air. Not when his Master’s pleasure was above even his own needs.

But still, his body rebelled. His lungs screamed for air and Harry could not stop his hands from slipping out from the grass he’d been clutching at, to press them both onto the man’s hips to let in some air.

His lungs screamed, and Harry took that moment to pull his head back, tongue gliding over the underside of the man’s cock, before engulfing the man’s prick once more. Harry’s pace was slow and steady, his teeth carefully kept away from his Master’s cock as he bobbed.

Harry didn’t want to hurt him. He doubted he could ever forgive himself if he did something to his Master.

“ _Yess_ , that’s it, Harry,” Voldemort groaned, and Harry preened under the praise, swallowing the man’s cock deeper into his throat and moaning when his Master’s grip clenched so tightly on his head that Harry swore some hair had to have come away with it. But Harry did not stop, delighted by the flush that settled over Voldemort’s cheeks and by the beads of sweat that dripped from down the man’s forehead.

Harry wanted to please him. He wanted to serve him completely and utterly. He was made for his Master. There was no other place than between his thighs.

“Take yourself into your fist and stroke yourself,” Voldemort hissed then, and Harry reluctantly removed his hand from the man’s skin to wrap his hands around his leaking prick. Harry moaned when his cock swelled within his clammy palm, his desire so overwhelming that Harry hardly noticed he’d stopped bobbing his head until Voldemort suddenly pushed Harry’s head forward.

Harry gagged, saliva dribbling down his chin and tears falling down his cheeks as Voldemort seized complete control of Harry’s head. His hand gripped tightly at Voldemort’s hip to brace himself, but the gesture made little difference. Voldemort’s pace was brutal, fucking so deeply into his mouth that Harry’s vision began to darken at the corners, choked sounds laced with pleased moans escaping his lips as Voldemort fucked into his throat.

Harry’s grip on his own cock wavered when Voldemort slapped him with one of his hands, but Harry quickly corrected that slight when Voldemort made a disapproving sound, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

_God, I am going to—_

Harry jerked himself fiercely in his hand, his thumb stroking the sensitive head of his cock each time his hand traveled from the base of his cock and up to his head, his own pleasured sounds torn out of him when Voldemort continued to fuck into his mouth and slap at his tear-streaked cheek.

“Yes, that’s it. Your eyes look beautiful with your tears gathered at the corners.”

Harry felt like he was going to pass out, but he held onto his consciousness, unwilling to disappoint his Master when the man was giving him exactly what he had wanted.

Harry wanted to suck his cock, wanted him to fuck into his throat until he could taste more of that sweetness coating the back of Harry’s mouth. Harry wanted it more than he wanted air. He wanted to be abused and sullied. And Harry keened, desperate for his Master to cum into his mouth.

Harry’s movements became jerky, his fingers twitching when his release began to creep closer as Voldemort thrust over and over into his hot mouth; the sensation of being filled in that way nearly pushing Harry over the edge when Voldemort’s mouth parted to release a pleasured hiss.

And then, without warning, Harry felt Voldemort’s cock swell before something warm rushed out.

Harry choked.

“Swallow it all. Do not let a single drop spill.” Voldemort warned, and Harry swallowed around the man’s cock, licking and sucking more urgently to drink in more of the viscous fluid that splattered over Harry’s tongue.

Harry moaned at the taste 

Voldemort’s cum tasted like ambrosia. The taste even better than the man’s mouth.

Harry sucked greedily at Voldemort’s prick, the pressure in his belly mounting until the sudden tightening of Voldemort’s grip on his hair, the bite of his fingernails cutting at his scalp tipped Harry over the edge.

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, mouth wide open as he splattered all over the grass, his mind total mush as he drank in more of his Master’s cum.

His face was a complete mess, but he couldn’t find a reason to care. Not when his Master tasted so good and his Master had found his own release.

It was several seconds before Harry finally came to himself, Voldemort’s cock slipping out from his mouth as Harry tried to regulate his breaths. Harry blinked slowly, shooting his gaze back to Voldemort’s eyes almost immediately, drawn in by the abyss despite the dark spots dancing across his vision from the intensity of his own orgasm.

His Master was smirking at him, the twist a cruel one that transformed once beautiful features into that of a monster’s.

And then, the haze that had overtaken Harry’s mind evaporated. Horror and shame rearing its ugly head as soon as Harry realized just what he’d done.

His mouth was wet and bruised, his fist and cock wet from his own explosive release. Harry’s face was wet with tears and his chin was smeared with saliva, and Harry was tempted to cry from the humiliation.

Harry’s stomach twisted in revulsion, his nausea overtaking him when Voldemort suddenly crouched in front of him.

_What have I done?_

Harry felt like he was going to be ill.

“You’ve consumed that which is not of this world. The essence of a Fae, the nectar of my realm.”

Harry’s heart seized, suddenly recalling a story his mum and dad had once read to him when he’d been eight.

 

_Come boy, take my hand,_

_I promise we shall play until you can no longer stand._

_You’ve lived your life shuttered away,_

_And I vow to lead you here for a more permanent stay._

 

_They say we are dangerous, monstrous and cruel._

_But we are neither, within view,_

_We are immortal and precious, just like you._

 

_Sweet boy,_

_Beautiful and precious little toy,_

_Won’t you join us,_

_I promise that the Fae are wondrous…_

 

_And if you’re afraid of a life with me,_

_Take a bite of our bountiful fruit and mead._

_I assure that it will be all you will ever need._

 

A tale of a creature leading humans away and forcing them to remain for a permanent stay.

Harry’s mouth opened and closed, as if trying to find the right words to say. But nothing came out, his mind was frozen in horror. The thought of the stories his parents had told him too much.

“No…” Harry’s voice broke, genuine tears gathering at the corners of his eyes when Voldemort’s hand reached out and caressed his cheek with mocking affection.

_No, it couldn’t be true._

“Your parents tried to protect you once before, and my, how angry I was when they managed to hide you away…” Voldemort continued and Harry felt himself slump, his world coming apart at the seams.

“…they died in vain, Harry. They could not protect you and you failed to protect _yourself._ You were living on borrowed time, and _my_ , how you’ve blossomed,” Voldemort crooned.

_He killed them_ , Harry thought then, shuddering when Voldemort’s fingers collected his tears on his fingers before bringing them into his mouth to lap at the tears.

“ _Delicious._ I wonder how the rest of you will taste of my tongue…” Voldemort whispered, but Harry was no longer listening.

_He’d killed them, my parents…_

Harry swallowed when Voldemort’s hand pushed his head forward, his eyes caught in a black that was quickly melting away into a deep, blood red. Harry gasped when the beautiful man transformed before his very eyes, watching how the man’s beauty melted away, its glamour—Harry recalled then—dissipating like smoke to reveal a monster.

The monster Harry had expected right from the beginning…

“I waited eighteen years for you. It is time that I collect a debt _long_ overdue.”

And then, Harry screamed.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S cum does not taste good. Just letting y'all know lmao.


End file.
